The Erasmus Student by Bells Masen Cullen
by Twilight Diversity Contest
Summary: He's experiencing my body like he does with History: his eyes are closed, losing himself in the feeling. And I let him take me with him, even if it's just for a few months I'll let him take me wherever he wants.


**_TWILIGHT DIVERSITY CONTEST_**

 **Title of Story:** The Erasmus Student

 **Story Summary:** He's experiencing my body like he does with History: his eyes are closed, losing himself in the feeling. And I let him take me with him, even if it's just for a few months I'll let him take me wherever he wants.

 **Pairing:** Bella/Edward

 **Rating:** M

 **Word Count (not including summary, header, or footnoted word translations):** 14,175

 **Warning:** the story is set in Spain, Bella is Spanish so keep in mind that when she's talking to her friends, she's speaking Spanish, even if it's written in English. There're some parts written in Spanish, for which the translations are provided at the end.

 **Disclaimer:** _The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

The professor finally dismisses the class and I turn to my friend Maria, who's stifling a yawn. I do the same just from seeing her, and we both chuckle. After five years, we're now used to our evening schedule, but that doesn't mean that finishing at 8 p.m. on the first day of the school year is a good idea, especially with the subject being Business Law.

Jessica, another of my friends, turns in her seat and laughs at us. "You two look like old ladies, already tired and it's only eight in the evening."

We glare at her and she only laughs harder. She's always full of energy, no matter what time it is. "I suppose you don't want to go for a beer, right?" she asks.

"I would say yes to that, but I have to go. I have to look after Katie tonight. You can come to my place for dinner if you want," I offer.

Katie is my little cousin. My father and my uncle had been policemen and died on duty five years ago. We had been devastated; my mother had lost her husband and her older brother the same day. I was eighteen at the time and it had been really hard, but now I was full of happy memories with my father. My uncle, on the other hand, had left behind a wife and a one year old daughter. My mom and I had more family, in fact, my grandparents on her side came to live with us a couple years ago, but my aunt was left alone, so we kind of adopted them. They now live at their own home, but on the days that my aunt has a night shift, my mom takes care of the little girl. Tonight, though, both my mother and my aunt have night shifts at the hospital —they are nurses— so I have to be the responsible cousin.

"Will we watch _Inside Out_?" asks Maria, bouncing in her seat like a little girl.

"Of course." We both are like kids when it comes to Disney movies.

"Then I'll go."

"Me too," says Jess.

"Great. Then, we'll stop by…" I trail off when my phone starts vibrating. I ask them to wait for a moment and I answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, Bella. This is Carmen, from the International Relations Office."

"Oh, hi, Carmen. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Look, I'm calling because I have an Erasmus student here. He's British and he speaks Spanish, but not very well. I was hoping that you, being fluent in English, could show him around and help him with the language."

A huge grin splits my face. I signed up my first year for the University's Volunteer Program, but this is a very small university, and I haven't had many opportunities to do something. Besides, I need extracurricular credits or I won't graduate this year, and this is a great chance.

"Yes, of course I can."

"That's great," she says excitedly. "Can you come over to the office so I can introduce you?"

"Yes, sure. I'll be there in five minutes." The good thing about being in such a small campus that consists of only one building is that you can be anywhere in the lapse of ten minutes tops.

I hang up and see my friends looking at me expectantly. "I'm finally getting the credits I need. I'm going to volunteer with an Erasmus student," I tell them. "I have to go for a moment to Carmen's office."

"Okay. We can go to McDonald's to grab something for dinner and we'll meet at your place," says Jessica.

"Perfect. I want a McChicken menu with Coke and potato wedges. Oh, and chicken nuggets." I give them ten euros to pay for my things and Katie's Happy Meal, and I take my bag to go.

"Don't you want a chicken milkshake too?" says Maria teasingly.

I show her my middle finger as I laugh and go out the door, making my way towards the library. Until the second building for the offices and the function room is finished, the functions are held in the hall and the service offices are located beside the library. The building is large enough, consisting of a big hall surrounded by the classrooms and the faculty offices. In the middle of that hall is the library, which consists of a main open floor one level under the lobby and three massive cubes of three floors each suspended from the ceiling for the study rooms.

I go down the ramp and bypass the library's entrance, going down a few steps and turning left to where the university's services offices are held.

I wonder why a British student has chosen to come here. Most Erasmus students that come to Spain usually go to Madrid or Barcelona. But, Segovia? A small city at the foot of the mountains in the center of the country?

 _Well, I guess I'll have now the chance to ask him,_ I think to myself.

I knock on the International Relations Office's door and open it. Inside I find Carmen and beside her is who I assume to be the new student. And, oh my god. He's gorgeous. He has the most brilliant green eyes I have ever seen, perfect nose, perfect kissable lips, and a crooked smile that is making me tremble on the inside. His hair is a strange mix of light brown and red, and his body is lean, maybe even muscled, but I can't tell because of his winter clothes. What is clear is that he's tall, like five feet eleven tall. Mix that with the fact that he's British –and I have a thing for everything British, especially the accent– and I have in front of me the perfect man, at least on the outside.

"Hey, Bella. Come in," says Carmen, taking me out of my stupor. "Edward, this is Isabella Swan," she continues, now speaking in English.

He extends his hand to me. "Edward Masen."

.

.

"Bella!" Katie comes running to me. "I have a Happy Meal and we're going to see _Inside Out_. We are waiting for you." She takes my hand and drags me to the living room, talking a mile per minute.

I find my friends sitting on the couch, with the dinner spread over the coffee table. I sit between them, and Jessica takes Katie and sits her on her lap.

"Your mom has already left," says Maria.

"Yes, she said that-" Jessica looks down at Katie and puts her hands over the girl's ears "-that he better be good for you to arrive so late," she finishes, and Maria laughs beside me.

Katie releases herself from Jess, jumps to the floor and takes off running, yelling that she needs to use the bathroom. I get up to go with her, but before going I answer, "I don't know if he's good, but he sure is damn fine."

"Hey!" exclaims Maria. "Don't go, you have to tell us everything."

"There's nothing to tell. I just showed him where his classrooms are, and we're meeting tomorrow because he needs help with the language."

"Oh, and is he going to help you back?" asks Maria with a smirk.

I laugh and shake my head. "You are incorrigible."

"And you need to get laid," Jess whispers, just in case Katie is near.

She didn't have to bother, though. The next thing I hear is my name yelled from the bathroom, and I go to see what the little imp needs.

.

.

I wake up the next morning with Katie jumping in my bed. I groan and turn, and she starts taking the covers off me. "Come on, Bella. You have to take me to school."

I groan again. Can't she be like the other kids that don't want to wake up early to go to school? Does she have to be so excited first thing in the morning? "Come on. Come on. Come on!"

"Okay, okay. But don't scream. Aunt Renee must be sleeping." I sit on the bed and chuckle when I look at her. "What have you done to your hair?" She has tried to tie her hair in a ponytail, but said ponytail is to the side, and the left half of her hair is down.

"I tried to tie it like you do, but my hands are small," she says, turning her hands and looking at me with a pout. And it's the cutest thing I've ever seen.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?"

"Yes!" she exclaims.

"Okay, let's go to have breakfast and then I'll braid your hair."

One hour later, I've left Katie at school and I'm making my way towards the University. I meet Jess and Maria and we go to the library to check out the books we'll need this year. We take them to make copies. The photocopy guy tells us that he'll have them in a couple days, and we thank him before going out.

"Hey, do you want to have a coffee before going home?" asks Jess, and Maria and I agree.

We go to one of the bars in front of the University's building and, closing our coats, we choose to sit outside and enjoy the sun that shines despite the cold weather. The small city of Segovia is in the Sierra of Navacerrada, forty five minutes away from Madrid, and being right at the foot of the mountain the winters are long and cold. But in the last few years the winter has started later, allowing a smoother change from the hot, dry summer to the cold, snowy winter, all thanks to global warming, of course. So already in October, we have to take advantage of the few sunny days that we have left until the sky becomes overcast.

Coffee turns into a Coke with a _pincho_ of tortilla. "I can almost hear my mother telling me that I won't eat lunch if I have this now," says Maria before she takes her slice of bread with a piece of _tortilla de patata_ on top.

Jess and I smile knowingly, because we could totally remember our mothers saying things like that. I could remember my father too - he would sneak a snack to me and then my mother would scold us both.

I come out of my bittersweet memories by someone calling my name. I look up and see Edward, the new Erasmus student.

"Hey, Edward. Are you out of class already?" I ask him in English.

"I wish," he answers with a smile. "I have a class in fifteen minutes, and I've come for a coffee."

"Do you want to sit with us? They are my friends, Maria and Jessica," I introduce my friends.

The three of them say their hellos, and he grabs a chair and sits at our table. "Do you speak English?" he asks my friends.

"Yes," says Maria. We have gone together to English courses since we were little girls.

"Mmmm, just a bit," answers Jessica in English, changing quickly to Spanish. "But I'm not very good at it. _¿Tú hablas_ _español?_ "

" _Solo un poco_ ," he says.

"Well, now is your moment to start," I tell him, nodding towards the waiter, who is approaching our table.

"Oh, um, _café solo_ ," Edward says when the waiter asks him what he wants, and looks at me to see if he has said it alright, I guess.

I smile at him encouragingly and translate for him when the waiter asks if he wants something to eat.

"Oh, _sí_. I... I mean, _yo_... ummm... _¿quiero?_ Ahhh, what they are having? _"_ He struggles and finally looks at me. "I don't know. Is that Spanish omelette?"

"Yes, it is. Do you want me to order it for you?" I offer _._

"Oh, no, I have to practice." He turns to the waiter. _"Quiero tortilla."_

The waiter goes and comes back a few minutes later with Edward's order, and Edward goes straight for the tortilla, eating it with gusto. He closes his eyes and moans, and my friends and I look at him dumbfounded because, come on, it's not every day we have a ridiculously good looking guy moaning in front of us.

"Oh God, this is really good," he says when he swallows. He finally realizes that we are staring at him -possibly with various degrees of want- and he blushes lightly. He clears his throat. "Ummm... you know, it's hard to wait for your strange meals schedule. Why don't you just have lunch at noon like the rest of the world instead of eating at two or three in the afternoon? I'm famished."

Maria clears her throat. "You'll get used to it with time. Anyway, I'm going home. Today I'm having lunch with Marco, and I want to cook something good to make him moan like that. I'll see you later!" She finishes in Spanish, just for Jessica and I. "Bye, Edward."

He's a bit perplexed. I guess he's understood what she said. "Bye," he says, waving while Jess and I chuckle.

Jess says her goodbyes too a few minutes later, and I know I should go home and start making lunch for my mother, but I'm torn between needing to go and wanting to stay with him a bit more.

Thankfully, Edward decides for me when he looks at his watch and sees it's time for him to go back to class. He swallows the rest of his coffee, gets up, and puts his backpack over his shoulders.

"So, do you want to meet this afternoon?" he asks. "You know, you said yesterday that you'd help me with the language."

"Oh, yes of course. We can meet at the tables by the vending machines on the top floor, if you want."

"Okay. What time?"

"I finish at eight tonight. Does it work for you?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet you there. Thank you. Bye!" And he takes off running to get to his class on time while I stay there a little bit and admire the swift movements of his body while he runs. He seems a mountain lion with those long legs.

I shake my head, sighing. I have it bad.

.

.

When I get home, my mother is up and cooking lunch. Today we have lentils stew. I help her finish while she tells me about how boring her night has been.

"Tonight I'm going to take turns with Sofia to sleep," she says, yawning.

"You should take a nap, Mom. I'll clean the plates before going to class."

"Thank you, dear," she says, getting up from the table. "I'll help you and then I'll lay on the couch a bit."

We clean together after eating, and I wish her a good night before going to the university. I'm not seeing her until tomorrow morning again.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you. Your grandparents arrive tonight. Can you take the car and go for them to the bus station? Sofia will come for me to go to the hospital." My grandparents had been away to Benidorm on a trip for retired people.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye!" I give her a kiss on the cheek and take the car keys before going out the door.

The afternoon drags by. The first week of the school year is the worst because you still have to adjust to having a schedule and responsibilities again. I go through four hours of Business Law, Financial Law and Philosophy, and by eight o' clock I don't know if I need coffee on an IV or a shot to the head to finish the torture. But Edward is waiting for me, so I say goodbye to my friends and go to the vending machines. Coffee will have to do.

.

.

Over the next two weeks, Edward and I meet every day. I have never taught languages and I don't really know where to start, so we just talk in Spanish and I help him find the right words or the correct order for those words. We talk about a lot of things, and it gives us an excuse to get to know each other. And the more I know him, the more I like him.

I find out basic things. He's 23, like me, and was born on June 20 in Oxford, where he's lived all his life with his parents. He's studied History at Oxford University, and he's now doing his post-grad in Medieval History and The Modern Era. That's why he has come here. Not only was England very linked to Spain at that time, but Segovia was the center of Castile and full of history. He doesn't have siblings and his parents are a bit overprotective -his mother didn't want him to come- but his aunt and uncle encouraged him to get the scholarship. He says he has a great relationship with them, and their son, Jasper, is like a little brother to him.

 _"Tiene cinco años y está obsesionado con la historia. Creo que va a seguir mis pasos,"_ he says with pride, not only talking about his cousin, but because it's the first long sentence he says without help. And I'm drooling. If his accent is sexy as hell when he speaks in English, I can't begin to tell you the things he does to me when he speaks in Spanish. And, well, a man showing love for kids? Let's just say I've been taking a lot of showers lately.

When he talks about his family, his hometown, or his choice of studies, I see a passionate man that cares profoundly for his people and lives his career intensely.

Jess and Maria say I'm falling for him. I'm not. We're friends. We have become good friends. I may have a crush because he's so damn cute, but I'm not stupid enough to fall for someone that will be gone by summer. I'm not.

By the second week of October, on a Friday, we are at his place. I'm going to the movies with Jess, Maria, and a couple more friends that study out of the city and have come for the weekend. When Victoria sends me a message saying they are waiting outside, I tell him I have to go.

"Hey, ummm, I was wondering... _¿me enseñarías la ciudad?_ " he asks me.

 _"¿En plan turístico?"_ He looks at me with his brow furrowed. "As in a touristic way?"

" _Oh, sí, eso._ I would prefer if you showed it to me. I'm afraid a touristic tour with a tourist guide who wouldn't let me get to know the essence of the city, you know?"

 _"¿De verdad quieres que te enseñe la ciudad?"_ I ask him excitedly.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," he says with a smirk.

"Oh! I would love to show it to you. It's been centuries since the last time I took time to visit the city. When do you want to do it?"

 _"¿Mañana?"_

 _"¿Mañana? Me va bien. ¿Quedamos a las...9 en punto?"_

"That's perfect, I'll see you tomorrow then."

.

.

I've always been a bit of a nerd when it comes to certain things, like Law (I love what I'm studying), books or yeah, history. Like I've said, I live in a place full of history and I love it. Sometimes, on certain streets, it's like you can feel other times radiating from the buildings or the trees. When I tell this to people, they usually look at me as if I'm crazy. But not Edward. Edward takes history to another level.

We meet at his place and start our route from there. We start with the Jewish Cemetery and a beautiful panoramic view of the medieval wall of the city with the Alcazar, the palace of the first queen of Castile, Isabella the First, at the left side and the Cathedral -the Lady- at the right. From there we walk to the monastery of La Fuencisla, Patron Saint of Segovia. In front of the Sanctuary there's a beautiful park and an amazing view of the Alcazar.

"We can go and sit there for a little bit if you want," I tell him, and he agrees. The day is a bit cold, but the sun is shining and we are a bit hot from walking, so it isn't that uncomfortable.

We go down between the trees, to the river, and find a dry spot near the dirt path.

"I went to Italy a couple years ago with my parents," he says in Spanish. "They bought a touristic tour and it was insane. We were rushed from one place to another all the time. I didn't really have time to admire anything, so that's why I didn't want that now."

"Oh, so it isn't because you were dying to spend even more time with me?" I say with mocked hurt.

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong. I love being with you..."

"Ooooh," I interrupt him. And I do it because I feel my face so hot and the butterflies so shaken up that I feel I have to conceal it.

He blushes. "I mean that... you know, I just..."

I burst out laughing, because as much as I want to jump him right now it's just funny to see him so nervous.

He stares at me. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes."

"Oh, so you think it's funny."

"Very."

"I'll show you what's funny."

And I can see what's coming, so I jump to my feet and start running. I can hear him running behind me, approaching quickly with his long legs. I laugh harder and that makes me go slower, but I just can't help it. It's been a long time since I've felt this good, this alive. He's laughing behind me, but when the grass finishes, my feet slip on the sand and I fall to the ground on my knees.

He rushes to my side and tries to help me stand, but ends up on the ground with me. I'm heaving, trying to catch my breath, so I don't have strength to get up. When our breaths even, he gets up and helps me to my feet.

 _"¿Estás bien?"_ he asks. I must be horrible, sweaty, and maybe even with dirt on my face. But the way he's suddenly looking at me... I have to look away because an image of next June and him boarding a plane to go back home flashes in my mind.

 _"Sí, estoy bien. Vamos, esta es mi parte favorita."_

I start walking and he walks beside me.

"I used to do that with my dad," I tell him. "We used to come in summer with our old dog and run and play down there by the river."

"I'm sure you scraped your knees a lot," he says, chuckling.

I chuckle with him. "Yes, I did. He was always there to catch me, though."

"He sounds like a good man."

"Yeah, he was. And he was half British."

"Really?"

"Yes. But he was born here in Spain and it's where he grew up. My grandparents, though, they met in Ibiza. My grandmother, Elena, was Spanish. It was my grandfather, Charles Swan, who was British. They were hippies, or so they say, because when my grandmother got pregnant they left the commune and became respectable citizens."

"So you have an Italian name and an English last name," he states.

"Yep." There's a brief pause while we cross the street and go up to the Templar church. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I told you all that. It's been a long time since the last time I talked about my father."

"What did he do?"

"He was a cop, died on duty five years ago."

"Shit, that sucks. My grandparents died last year, it was bad enough. I can't imagine losing a parent."

"It's horrible. I was so angry at him for a while... But it gets better. I've learnt to live with it and know I can think about him without feeling I'm running out of air." I sigh. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about sad things. _¿Quieres entrar?_ " I ask him, pointing to the church.

" _Claro_. What church is this?"

" _Es la iglesia de la Vera Cruz_. It is said that it was built by the Templars in the 13th Century following the pattern of the Dome of the Rock, and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the tower, the sacristy and the apses were built later."

We go around the Romanesque building, admiring its doors and the chapels, and then we go up to the second floor of the smaller central temple that has a caliphal dome and an altar with mudejar decoration.

"So... built by the Templars, uh? I'm sure there're lots of stories and legends."

I laugh softly. "You think the Holy Grail could be hidden here after all?"

"Maybe we can hide and stay until they close, and then look for it."

"Only if I can be your lawyer when the Police arrests you."

He chuckles. "I think we can have the beginning of a deal here," he says, winking at me. "Okay, tell me the stories then."

"I don't know about magical chalices. The only legend I know is the one that says that during the vigil of a knight, the body was severely damaged by rooks. The prior then cursed rooks and banished them from entering the building and, since then, there haven't been any rooks around this church."

"Hmmm, I was hoping for something more... _misterioso_. You know, maybe something new I could discover and become a world famous historian _._ "

I just stare at him and then shake my head, laughing again while we go out to the street. "Okay, world famous historian, come on. I'm going to show you my favorite place in this city."

I take him by the hand and, you know those romantic novels or movies where the lovers touch and it's like fireworks exploding? Well, we're wearing gloves, so I can't feel a thing. But I like the way our hands fit together, so maybe that's a start.

We go back to the main road and keep walking forward until a few minutes later, we get to a street lined with trees on each side, and the Alcazar rises majestically behind us. To our right, across the road, we have the old wall of the medieval city that was already there after the Christians retook the city from the Muslims. To our left there's another stone wall and down there we can see the ancient Mint. The river flows under us. A car passes by occasionally, but it's a peaceful and beautiful place.

"Maybe this sounds a bit geeky, but you can actually feel History here. And it will be the same when we go through the wall and visit the old part of the city," I say, blushing a bit. My friends sometimes laugh when they hear me say things like that.

"You can't only feel it. You can see and hear it," he adds.

"I don't know if I'd go that far," I say, looking at him sideways and with my brow furrowed.

Without saying a word, he moves to stand in front of me and places his gloved hands on my shoulders. "Close your eyes," he commands in Spanish, and I do it just because - there it is - that cute accent again. "Okay, do you have a mental picture of the place?" I nod. "Well, now imagine it a long time ago. There is no road or lampposts. Only a dirt road, the trees, a forest maybe, and the buildings. Can you see it?" I nod again. And I really like this thing. "Now you have to concentrate, and hear. There's a metallic sound behind you and the ground is vibrating. The door of the palace grounds has opened and there're horses approaching. Maybe the Queen and King are going away, to Aragón because the King has to take care of his vassals, or to Granada to fight the Muslims. Or maybe only the King is going out to hunt in the woods. Can you hear the dogs barking?"

I give a startled jump, because yes, I heard them. It was only my imagination, but it's been powerful. "I think I like your way of seeing it," I say a bit breathless.

"I knew you would," he says. "History is not only a list of things that have happened in the past with people and dates in it. To fully understand it, you have to live it."

I stare at him. He's so close to me that I can feel his warm breath blowing softly in my face. He has that look again, like he wants to kiss me. I bite my lip. I want him to kiss me, but that image of him leaving in a few months flashes again, and I know I have to think straight or I'll get in trouble.

I step back, and he looks disappointed for a brief moment before composing himself and moving beside me. He doesn't stop touching me, though, as he throws his arm over my shoulders.

We resume our touristic journey and we go down to the Royal Mint, crossing its beautiful Romanesque bridge, and then we go up to the wall and cross it. We spend the morning exploring the narrow streets and admiring the old buildings, a lot of them with mudejar decorations in the facades, reminiscing of a time passed long ago when the Muslims controlled this place. At half past one we have lunch in a restaurant in the Plaza Mayor, a shared typical menu consisting of _Judiones de la Granja_ -big beans stewed with _embutido_ , typical in the region- and _cochinillo_ , typical of Segovia too. It is a piglet roasted only with salt and animal fat. After visiting the Lady of the Cathedrals, we go to the Alcazar.

We buy our tickets to see the palace and go up to the tower. Through the royal chambers and the throne room, Edward makes me hear once again people who died long ago but who are still alive in history books and between those walls. It makes me shiver, and I swear that has nothing to do with the fact that he leans down to talk into my ear each time. He isn't playing fair.

When we are finished exploring and taking photos, we take a stroll through the Jewish quarter to the modern part of the city. But our touristic day isn't finished, because we still have to see the most important monument, the pride of the city and its symbol: the aqueduct.

It is the only Roman aqueduct that still stands complete in Spain, and one of the few Roman monuments that are still complete. Built in the 1st century AD by Emperor Domitian, it consists of two levels of 36 semi-circular arches in its first section built of unmortared, brick-like granite blocks. But Edward already knows that.

"Tell me the stories about it," he asks me.

"Mmm... okay. Can you see that niche?" I ask him, pointing to the niche on the upper level that contains a sculpture. "That image is of the _Virgen de la Fuencisla_. There's a niche too on the other side that is now empty, but it held an image of Hercules, who is said to be the founder of the city."

"I knew that one; it is mentioned in books about its construction."

"Okay, I'm sure you don't know this one. The legend about its construction says that there was a girl that every day had to go really far for water, and one day during her journey she exclaimed angry and tired that she would give anything for not having to walk every day to get water. The devil appeared then and they made a deal. In exchange for her soul, the devil would construct an aqueduct to get water to the village's doors. There was only one condition, and it had to be finished before sunrise.

"When she got home, the girl regretted making that deal and she started to pray. That night, the devil and his demons started building the aqueduct. They were almost done, only one brick left, when the first ray of sun hit the devil's face. The villagers were the ones that finished it later in the day, so they had finally a way to get water to the village and the girl kept her soul."

"Wow, it's actually better than the story about the Romans. Are you sure it's only a legend?" he asks with a mischievous smirk.

"I don't know, you could add it to your list of mysteries with the Holy Grail and the Templar church, and investigate it later."

"Hey, aren't you going to investigate with me?"

"Nope. Remember, I have to be your lawyer. All these kinds of investigators in books are always chased by the Police."

"And will you be an expensive lawyer?"

I make as if I ponder that for a moment. "Nah, you can buy me dinner and we're even. I'm famished."

He only laughs, taking me by the hand and walking to find a place to have dinner.

.

.

It becomes a routine. Each Saturday is a touristic day for us. We explore Segovia further and we go to the villages around it. In La Granja, we visit the Royal Palace, a small replica of Versailles. He makes me dance with him in the ballroom until a staff member looks at us annoyed, and we go to the next room. We visit the small fairy-tale-like village and make plans to go up the mountains to ski when it starts snowing. I take him to see the Cathedral of the Sierra in a small village thirty minutes away from Segovia. We go to Cuellar and Coca and see the castles. To the medieval village of Pedraza. We venture out of the area and go to Valladolid, and out of the region to Madrid.

On the long weekend at the beginning of November, my friends join us and we go to Andalucía. We visit Granada, Córdoba, and Sevilla. The girls are enamoured of Edward, and when he meets the guys and the first thing he asks is about Miguel's English nickname –Mike- he's instantly part of the group. It's like a non-written rule, you have to tease Miguel about his name. By the way, we call him Mike because of his blond hair and really white skin –he seems a German or British tourist, more so in summer when instead of tanned he gets a red colour.

Edward doesn't make an attempt to kiss me again, but he still isn't playing fair. In the Royal Alcazar of Sevilla, he tells me about King Charles I of Spain and V of Germany and his marriage with Isabella of Portugal. It was a marriage of convenience, but they fell in love at first sight. He tells me a story about Charles bringing Persian flowers, carnations, for his wife and planting them all around the Kingdom of Castile.

"You have the name of many queens," he says in Spanish -he's a fast learner and now can hold a conversation easily. And he gives me a carnation. My friends sigh when I tell them.

It's becoming more and more difficult to resist him, until one day at the end of November I cave.

It's Thursday and we don't have class tomorrow -like most Fridays- so the whole group is out discussing about going to spend the day in Salamanca on Saturday. We have dinner and then go for a few drinks. Thursday is after all the day when the university's students go out. Initially, we weren't going to stay out until late, but it's almost seven a.m. when we decide to go home.

Jess and Mike catch a cab to her place. Edward and I have to go the same way as Maria and Marco, so the four of us walk together for a while, and then it's only Edward and me. He says he's going to walk me home, that he wouldn't let me walk alone in the street at this hour.

We get to my building and take the elevator to the fourth floor. Before I can get to my door, he has me trapped against the wall beside it.

"I really want to kiss you," he says.

I apparently have drunk more than I thought, because I answer, "I really want you to kiss me."

He gets closer to me. I can feel the length of his body against mine, his nose is touching mine, and I close my eyes as he tells me to do when we are in some historical place. Then I just feel. His warm breath. His body pressing even more close to me. His hands softly against my neck. The light movement of his nose, almost like a caress, when he angles his head. Only seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime to me before I finally feel his mouth on mine.

His lips are soft at first, teasing, asking me to open up to him. When I yield, he takes my bottom lip between his and massages it. After a while, I need more, so I leave my passive position and take firmly his face. It becomes a demanding kiss, one full of desperation and need after weeks of denying him. There are lips and teeth and tongue, and when we move away, we are breathless.

"I want to do more than just kissing you," he says against my lips.

"That's pretty clear," I state, feeling his erection against my stomach. His answer is an attack to my neck and I push against him, trying not to laugh too hard. "My mother is about to come back from work," I tell him, running my hands through his hair.

He growls against my neck, tickling me, and then lifts his head but I keep my fingers between his strands at the nape of his neck. "We'll find a moment." And as he says it, we can hear the front door of the building opening and closing. My mom.

He gives me one last kiss and releases me. I finally open my door and go to my bedroom, hearing the front door open a few seconds later.

.

.

When I wake up, I find my mother in the kitchen making lunch.

"Good afternoon," I say. "How was your night?"

"Good, I guess. Uneventful." She shrugs her shoulders. "How was yours?"

"Good," I answer, opening the fridge and taking a carton of orange juice out.

"Did you come back late?" she asks, and I know she knows because of the nonchalant tone she's using.

"No," I say without looking at her and taking a glass out of the cabinet.

"Really?"

I shrug.

"So, the guy that was in the landing waiting for the elevator had come to see Mrs. García?"

Mrs. García was our seventy nine year old neighbour.

"So you have noticed, huh? I always thought she was a bit of a cougar. Now we have proof."

She laughs and I laugh with her. "How can you be so cheeky?"

"You made me, Mom. You are the one that should know the answer to that."

She takes a rag and slaps my ass with it.

"So is he your boyfriend?" she asks after a while.

"No, Mom, just a friend. He's Edward, the Erasmus student at the university."

"Ah, the famous Erasmus student," she states complacently.

I leave the glass on the counter and look at her. "What?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Now you make out on the landing with your friends?"

"We didn't make out."

"He had lipstick on his face and his hair..."

"Okay, we did kiss. Are you satisfied now?"

"Yes. It was about time." Now I look at her confused. "You haven't been with anyone since you broke up with Jacob. Your friends have boyfriends and you seemed so alone sometimes... I felt bad for you."

Jacob had been my first and only boyfriend until a few years ago. He hadn't really been there for me when my father died and I had finally broken up with him. It had been liberating rather than depressing, really. During the last few months I realized that if he had loved me, he would have been there for me and, most importantly, I realized that I didn't care if he wasn't there. We had fun together, at least until that moment, but I didn't love him.

"Mom," I say, hugging her. "I've never felt alone, really. I was comfortable. And you shouldn't get your hopes up. I've told you, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Who cares? Just... have fun, don't overthink, Bella," she says wisely. "I know you. I know you are making a mental list of the reasons why you shouldn't be with this guy while he's here."

"Yeah, the first one being that he's going away in a few months." It has been a long time since I last talked to my mom like this. We used to tell each other everything, but lately we haven't had have much time to just sit and talk. Now, there was no stopping me. "He's perfect, Mom. Really. We like the same things and have fun when we're together. And I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about the rest. We have the same interests, we can talk about books, movies, TV shows... He makes me laugh as I haven't done in a long time.

"He is... the kind of guy I would bring home to meet you and the grans."

"And what's the problem then?" she asks, looking at me with her brow furrowed.

"Really? Can't you see? All of that is the problem. If I let myself fall for him, what will happen when June arrives and he goes back to England?"

She stays silent while she sits in a chair at the kitchen table and drags one out for me to sit beside her. She only speaks again when I sit down.

"Bella, dear. If you're already thinking about those things it's because you've already fallen for him, and you're going to hurt when he goes, no matter if you admit it or not."

It was like a slap of reality. Of course I have already fallen for him. I have been spending time almost every day with the man I've always wanted. I suppose my mother is waiting for me to make this realization, because she stays silent for a moment before speaking again. "So, if you're going to hurt anyway, why don't you make it worth it? I hurt really badly when your father left us. I still do sometimes when I remember him, but I wouldn't change a thing. The time I had with him made all that pain worth it. And he can't come back from death, but it's not like Edward and you can't see each other again if whatever there's between you ends up being something meaningful.

"So don't drive yourself mad thinking about what will happen in a few months. Just let things happen and see where they go."

I tilt my head and look at her for a moment, pondering. "When did you become so wise?"

"It's a mom thing. Now go dress yourself, Phil is coming for lunch."

Phil has been her boyfriend for two years now. He's a decent man. I can't say I was thrilled at first, but he treats her well and at least she isn't alone, so I started tolerating him and now I actually like him. He's from Bristol and works as an English teacher in the high school I studied in.

I guess I can say that my liking for British guys comes from my mother.

.

.

He comes to my place later that afternoon. To practice the language, he says. Ha! But even if my mother is out with her boyfriend and my grandparents have gone out for a stroll or to play cards or something, my aunt is working and I'm looking after Katie.

Edward stays anyway and watches a movie with us. When the movie ends and Katie gets too loud, he sits her on his lap and reads to her, and the sight melts what Maria and Jess call my ice-cold heart. We don't talk about what happened this morning, but before going home he kisses me goodbye.

It's brief, but intense and it leaves my body tingling. That night I think about my conversation with my mother and decide to do just what she said: I'm going to let things happen and see where they go.

.

.

We have decided we can't go to Salamanca and not go out at night, being the great place it is for partying, so we rent a room in a hostel.

Salamanca is a beautiful city, similar to Segovia but a bit bigger and perfect to walk around and lose yourself in the narrow streets of another era. We also see the Cathedral, take photos in the Garden of Calixto and Melibea -where the two characters of the novel _La Celestina_ fall in love- and go find the frog in the front facade of the old University. It's a Renaissance facade, and the legend says that amongst the decorations is a small frog, and that you have to find it in order to be able to finish your studies.

I know Edward likes these things, so we stay there for a while until we all have found it and then go to the hostel for a shower before going out.

I've always felt like the third wheel on these trips, being amongst couples, but tonight Edward is with me. We all share a room with three bunk beds, but it's three a.m., still early. I know my friends won't be back for a few hours. Edward and I still haven't talked or acknowledged what happened on Friday morning, but we find a way to lose the others along the night and end up at the hostel, finally alone. Since we went out for dinner, the night has consisted of light touches that have left me wanting more and more. Edward has teased me mercilessly and I feel like we've been foreplaying for hours. So with my new determination to not to overthink things, I've decided to have him tonight.

We lock the door when we enter the room and we fall on the nearest bed. I almost fall to the floor and the alcohol makes Edward laugh before helping me. He sits me on the bed and I fall back, my legs dangling from the edge. I lift my head when I don't feel him and I see him standing in front of me. He's taken his shirt off and is unbuckling his jeans at the speed of light.

I start undressing to get even with him, but I have the other bed over me and my movements are clumsy and limited, so when I'm taking off my blouse over my head, I feel a tug that makes my ass slide forward on the mattress. Edward is wearing only his boxers and trying to take off my jeans. He keeps tugging and making me move forward.

I laugh. "What are you doing? They won't come off if you don't open the button first."

"True," he says before launching to me.

He lands on top of me and kisses me soundly while his hand fumbles with the button of my jeans. Together, we struggle to take them off in the small space and then my underwear disappears, along with his. After two months of sexual frustration around him, I think I may explode if I don't have him inside me soon.

I can't say we spend the night making love slowly and passionately, since we're not in the correct place for that. But it's fun and great. He kisses my breasts and then leaves a trail of kisses to my mouth, which he explores conscientiously with his tongue while two fingers pump inside of me, and it's so good that I don't take a long time to come around his fingers. But I need more, so when I come down from my orgasm, my foot starts caressing his cock, which is really hard against his stomach.

"Please," I moan. And he moves away, I guess to find a condom, but all I can hear is an 'ouch.'

I look at him and laugh when I see him rubbing his head. He's hit himself against the upper bed in his haste to move.

"Are we eager?" I tease him.

"Very." He laughs with me while he finds a condom in his jean pocket behind him.

He puts it on hunched, careful as to not hit his head again. "Are _you_ eager?" he asks, coming over me.

"Very," I echo his words and lift my head to kiss him. It's slow and wet, and without stopping, he enters me.

We sigh into each other's mouths and find a rhythm similar to that of the kiss. He goes out slowly almost all the way and goes in a bit harder each time, grunting every time our hips make contact. He drives me crazy with his sounds and I moan too. The sensations are overwhelming. I've never felt sexier than I feel right now with him and that helps me to let loose and express how good he's making me feel.

The pace picks up and I meet him in each thrust, chasing that wonderful sensation that I know is coming. The bed creaks and trembles under us, but I can't find it in me to worry about it. The only thing I want is to come with Edward, to feel and see him come undone. He's experiencing my body like he does with History: his eyes are closed, losing himself in the feeling. And I let him take me with him, even if it's just for a few months. I'll let him take me wherever he wants. I come first. It's like wave after wave of intense pleasure that hit me quickly, head to toe, and throws me into space. I tense around him and feel him pulsing inside me.

He grunts loudly and collapses over me. And having him like that, with all his weight pressed against me while he heaves in search of air, is an even better sensation than all the rest. With my hands in his hair, I cling to him, not wanting it to end.

But it does. All too soon, he lifts his body, supporting himself over his forearms. He looks at me for a moment and then kisses me softly.

" _God, you're beautiful,"_ he says before moving to stand by the bed and dispose of the condom.

I normally would blush and feel shy. But I don't. I truly feel beautiful, sexy. So I get out of the bed and walk to him. I kiss him thoroughly. The words I want to say are stuck in my throat. It's one thing admitting to myself that I may have fallen in love, and another thing saying it out loud, even if it's what I want to do right now.

So we just dress and go to the bathroom to clean ourselves, and when we go back to the bedroom, we lay together in bed, my head over his heart, my arm over his abdomen and my left leg draped over his. He holds me close to him while, between kisses, we fall asleep.

.

.

Our next visit to Salamanca is more bittersweet. The day before he met my mother, he went to my place for dinner and I was a bit anxious about what my mother would say, because sometimes Renee doesn't have a filter. But she behaved and they loved each other.

That doesn't mean we have put a label to this thing that's going on. And it's already been almost a month since that first trip to Salamanca.

Anyway, it's bittersweet because the Christmas break has arrived. We go to Salamanca for the University New Year's Eve, an event you have to attend when you're a student in Spain. We listen to the last twelve rings on the clock in the Plaza Mayor, but instead of eating grapes like we do in Spain in the actual New Year's Eve, we eat gummy bears. The night is bitter because the next afternoon Edward will take a plane back to Oxford to spend the holidays with his family. But it's sweet because, this time, instead of spending the night at the hostel with our friends, Edward has surprised me renting an actual hotel room. So instead of partying all night to welcome a new year that is still a few days away, we spend the hours until the next day making love and getting to know each other in multiple ways.

I stay strong when I leave him at the airport in Madrid the next day, but I cry like a baby on the way home.

.

.

I spend the holidays with my family. On Christmas Eve, I have a great dinner of roasted lamb with my mother, my grans, my aunt and Katie, who spend the night at our home. On Christmas morning, we open together the presents Santa's left for us. On New Year's Eve, Phil joins us and we welcome the year 2016 together.

I go out with my friends that night and have fun. We end the celebration at 8 a.m. the 1st of January over a breakfast of chocolate and churros.

I speak with Edward almost every day over Skype, but a couple days after the New Year he disappears. He doesn't connect or respond the WhatsApp messages I leave for him.

I worry. What if something has happened? What if he doesn't come back? I know I'm overthinking again, but I can't help it. He's in another country and I don't have any other way to communicate with him.

On the 5th my mother has had enough and she makes me go with her, my aunt and Katie to the Cavalcade of Magi. The fresh air does me good and I forget about Edward for a while, actually enjoying my little cousin's joy upon seeing the Three Wise Men and thinking about the gifts they will bring her tonight.

I'm standing in queue with Katie so she can go and tell one of the Kings what she wants to find under the tree tomorrow morning when somebody puts his hands on my shoulders and tells me to close my eyes, just like Edward used to do when we were in some historical place. My heart starts beating fast and I turn around quickly, hoping it's him. But no. It's Jacob, my ex.

"You don't seem too happy to see me," he says.

"What do you want, Jacob?"

"You know what I want," he says. And I just shake my head tiredly.

Every year is the same. He's outside most of the year because he studies at the university in Barcelona, but when he comes back for the holidays -no matter Christmas, the Holy Week or summer- he's relentless about trying again. This year I was relieved when I heard that he and his parents were spending Christmas and New Year out of the city, so I thought he would go back to Barcelona straight after that.

"Listen, I know I fucked up," he says, not mattering to him that my six year old cousin is right here, "but if you let me-"

"Jacob," I cut him off. "No."

"But-"

"No! I didn't love you then and I don't now. I- I'm with someone." There, I had said it out loud.

"Yes, I heard. Some asshole that has come with an Erasmus scholarship, right? So what? Do you think he'll stay for you? I don't think so, Bella."

"And do you think that I care for what you think? Look, every year is the same. I'm not going back with you, and that's it, okay? Now, go, please."

I turn around and see it's almost our turn, so I take Katie up in my arms. "We'll talk before I go, Bella." That's the last thing I hear Jacob say.

.

.

After the parade, none of us feels like cooking dinner so we decide to eat somewhere. And somewhere ends up being McDonalds after Katie's insistence.

My mother and my aunt have started acting weird, making us change tables four times before they are satisfied and then insisting that I should sit on a chair instead of in the booth. I don't like to have my back to the door, but I concede only to see if they would shut up for once. Everything falls into place when they both go for our meals while I stay at the table with Katie.

 _Not again_ , I think when I feel someone's hands over my eyes. "Hello, beautiful." And I hear my little cousin gasp. I gasp too and move my hands to the ones over my eyes. I move them away and turn my head just to confirm the evident while I hear Katie's feet touch the floor and run exclaiming, "Edward!"

.

.

"I thought you weren't coming until Sunday," I tell him later when we're at his place, naked in his bed.

Apparently, after being four years without sex -because, until Edward I hadn't been with anyone after Jacob- now I can't wait a few hours. I was dumbfounded at the restaurant, and then my mom and my aunt came back and we hadn't had a chance to talk. And well, when we were alone we had gone straight to his place to go at it like rabbits. Now, once sated we could speak but without dressing ourselves, just in case necessity hits again.

"That was the plan," he says. "But I missed you."

I lift my head from his chest. "You have come back because of me?" I don't know why this puzzles me so much, but it does.

"Yes, Bella, I missed you so much. I spent the holidays with my family but couldn't wait until the break finished to be with you again."

This puts a knot in my throat. Nobody has ever said something that beautiful to me. "I love you." The words spill out of my mouth without giving me time to think first. My hand flies to my mouth.

He just smiles knowingly, like I haven't told him anything new, saying, "Come here," and reaches out to the nape of my neck to move my head down to his. He kisses me softly, his tongue barely grazing mine before moving apart. "I love you too," he says against my lips before kissing me again, more insistently this time.

Soon, things heat up again and I find myself straddling him while he sits against the headboard and presses me against him. It's good that he doesn't have roommates, because we show our love rather loudly. In this position he's able to hit places that make me scream, and I don't hesitate in telling him how good I feel.

Spent once again, we lay on the bed and that time we sleep until morning.

.

.

The next morning I wake up alone. I follow the smell of coffee and find Edward in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. There're eggs, toast, and orange juice. The smell is heavenly.

The sight is heavenly too. Edward is only wearing grey sweatpants, his t-shirt is on me. I sit on the kitchen table and he turns around to look at me. The hem of the t-shirt has rode up, covering only to mid-thigh. He comes to stand in front of me and places his hands on my naked skin.

"Good morning," he says after kissing me.

"Mmmm, morning," I say, chasing his mouth.

"I made breakfast."

"I see. I thought you were going to make me an English breakfast."

He laughs. "I have seen you eat in the mornings. You can't with an English breakfast, trust me." He is right, of course. My principal meal is lunch. I don't have much appetite in the mornings. "But," he continues, giving me a piece of toast and a glass of juice, "if you eat this, then I'll give you an English breakfast."

I shove him. "Agg, you are disgusting."

He laughs and sits on a chair to eat his eggs and drink his coffee and juice. I sit beside him.

"So what time do we have to be there?" he asks.

We are going to my place to open gifts. "Mmm, maybe we should already be there. I bet my aunt is having a hard time entertaining Katie." Last night, my aunt told me she'd wait until I got home to bring Katie to open the gifts the Three Wise Men left her there.

I go for my phone. "Or maybe we have more time," I tell him from the hallway, on my way back to the kitchen, while I look at the display. There're no missed calls or messages, and it's already 9 a.m. Katie usually is up by 7 a.m.

I call my aunt and she tells me Katie just woke up and started opening the gifts she had at home. We have about an hour to get to my place.

"She stayed up until late to make a gift for Edward," my aunt explains. "She's smitten with him."

I tell Edward and he blushes and smiles. "She's a great kid."

"Yes, she is."

"So, we still have an hour," I say, sitting on his lap.

"You still want that English breakfast?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Only if I can have it in the shower." Next thing I know, he's throwing me over his shoulder and taking me to the bathroom.

We arrive to my place just a few minutes before my aunt, and Edward uses the time to leave his gifts under the tree. I didn't think he'd buy me anything, because he had already given me a beautiful bracelet for Christmas, but he hadn't bought only for me. He had brought gifts for my mother, my grans, my aunt and Katie.

"Oh, Edward, you didn't have to," says Granny Sara, and she takes advantage of the moment to kiss him on the cheek.

Yeah, Katie isn't the only one smitten.

"I wanted to, really. And it's nothing big."

Nothing big turned out to be spa experiences for my mother, aunt, and grandmother. Wine for Granpa. And for Katie he has a beautiful bracelet, a miniature of the one he gave me for Christmas, with a "C" charm dangling from it –the initial of her name, Catalina. For me he has a beautiful antique edition of _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo, one of my favourite books. When I ask him if he will read to me tonight, he agrees. The gift is just perfect.

There are things for him too. I gift him an experience. He and Mike had found a common ground in their love for planes, so Jess and I had gotten them a flying session. There're books and CDs from the women in my family, and Granpa gives him a leather bound journal that Edward loves. But the most special gift is always the simpler. Katie gives him a drawing of him and her the first day they met, when he sat her on his lap and read to her.

"This is beautiful, little girl," he says, crouching in front of her.

"Look on the other side," she tells him shyly.

He turns the paper and I look over his shoulder. There, written in her six year old calligraphy is the question 'Do you want to be my older brother?'

We all end up teary eyed. Katie has never asked for a dad, but it was obvious she needed a masculine presence in her life, other than our Granpa.

After he declares that he's going to be her older brother, she proceeds to claim his attention, showing him all the gifts she got. And with that, the tearful moment is broken, but I'm still melting inside seeing them together.

.

.

The months pass by. We fall into a routine of going to class and spending the weekends together. No matter what we do during the day, family time or being with our friends, from Friday to Sunday at the end of the day we have our own bubble at his apartment. My favourite moments are the ones when we curl together on the couch and he reads to me. His accent has faded away a bit, but it's still there, sexy as ever.

His uncle and aunt, Carlisle and Esme Cullen, come for a visit during the Holy Week. Edward says they're Catholic and wanted to come for a long time, so now they are taking advantage of having a place to stay. I meet them, and though I'm not really devout, they want to see the religious processions so I take them to Valladolid. They are really nice and his little cousin, Jasper, is the cutest thing you'll ever when he says he wants to buy a gift for his girlfriend at school, Alice.

We have a good time, but with good times comes our first argument. The day before they arrive, I am helping Edward clean the guest bedroom.

"What about your parents? Couldn't they come too?" I ask him after he finishes telling me his family I'm going to meet. He barely talks about his parents and I'm curious.

"They... have other things to do," he says, noncommittally.

"Better than seeing their son after three months? Not that I'm judging or anything, but it's weird."

"Well, yes, they have better things to do than coming here, Bella," he says bitterly, and now he's changed to English.

"Hey, don't talk to me like that. It's not my fault." I don't like his tone.

"Then just stop asking! Why do you care anyway?"

"Edward," I say, a warning in my voice. "I haven't said anything for you to talk to me like that, so calm down. I only wanted to know about your parents, you barely talk about them."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to talk about them, okay?"

"Okay," I say simply. There's a knot in my throat, the tone he's using... I feel like an idiot.

And after a while I really want to cry, because the realization hits me. They have argued because of me. Edward had told me they are really overprotective and didn't want him to come here, they wanted him to stay in England, near them. So maybe they now see me as a threat, maybe they think I'm going to steal their son away.

"It's because of me?" I ask in a whisper. I don't think I can say it louder without it turning into a sob.

"Oh God, won't you just drop it?" He's defensive now. So it's true.

I take a deep breath. "I think I have a right to know," I say a bit louder, my eyes watering. "If you have argued with them because of me."

"Okay!" he exclaims. "It is because of you. Are you satisfied now? They don't want to know a thing about this country, much less about you. They only want that I go back home and live with them to treat me like a fucking five year old! That's what you wanted to hear?"

A sob escapes my mouth and the tears fall from my eyes. Not only his words hurt, but his tone. The way he's said it... it's like he's blaming me. I can't stand it, so I tell him I'm sorry and go for the door.

He goes after me and catches me when I have my hand on the handle. "Fuck, I'm sorry, baby." He tries to hold me to him, but I shake away from his embrace. "I'm not mad at you, Bella. I'm mad at them." He tries to hug me again and I let him, standing still while he rubs my back and my hair. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just so frustrated with them... and with me for not having stood up to them before. I just... aaahh."

He moves back a bit and looks at my face. "I'm not going to let them make decisions for me or guilt me into doing what they want," he states with determination. "I'm making my own decisions. If they don't want to understand it's their problem, not mine or yours, okay?" I nod, still trembling a bit, and I wrap my arms around him. "I love you," he says, with a kiss to my forehead.

It was a brief argument but, despite his reassurances, the knowledge that they didn't approve of our relationship puts a stone in my stomach. Despite what he had said at that moment, they are his parents, his family, and in only three months they'd make him choose between them and me.

\- . - . - . - . -

Spain is different, they say, and in some ways it's true. While most universities in the world hold their students graduations after the exams, when they finally finish their studies, here in Spain we have them in May, before the exams and without actually knowing if we'll really graduate or not. Graduations here are something symbolic, an excuse to party.

Therefore, I can't say I have finished yet, but I'm studying hard and I know I will in June so it's a special moment for me, and even more so is having Edward there, knowing that I won't have him near to celebrate when I actually finish.

The next day we make our last trip before I start the exams and before he has to go back to Oxford. We load my car with a couple bags and go visit the north of Spain. We start in Galicia.

"Granma Swan was from here, so this is my second home," I tell him the first night.

"So you're in part from Castile, part from Galicia, and part British? What a mix, huh?"

I laugh. "Yes, it's curious, to say the least."

The first day I take him to the Mount of Santa Tecla. On our way up we stop and have a stroll in the Iron Age settlement before going to the mount's peak and admire the view of River Miño's estuary. We have a cruise in the Ribeira Sacra in Ourense and we go to Vigo and take a ferry to the Cies Islands.

In 2007, The Guardian named the Praia das Rodas, the island's principal beach, the best beach in the world. And it is, with its thin white sand and the turquoise waters that are cold as hell. We have a nice lunch of seafood -the best seafood of the world is here in Galicia, too- and we see the sunset from one of the island's many peaks before taking the ferry back to the mainland.

Then we stop in Santiago de Compostela and admire its impressive cathedral from every perspective, ending in the Praza do Obradoiro with the many pilgrims that come here every year. We stroll around the narrow winding streets full of history, and once again Edward makes me see the world with another's eyes.

That night we have dinner in bed at our hotel bedroom.

"I'd love to walk the Way of St. James. How do you call it in Spanish?"

"Camino de Santiago."

"Yes, that's it. I'd love to walk the Camino de Santiago."

"You'd have a field day with all the historical places."

He laughs. "Yes, I guess I would."

"But you have run out of time now." I try to hide the sadness in my voice, but I'm not completely successful.

He puts his fingers under my chin and lifts my face to him for a kiss. "We'll do it the next time."

"Okay," I whisper.

His words send butterflies to my stomach. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I can't help it with his next words. "And I mean it. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when."

.

.

Our next stop is La Coruña. We stroll on the beach of Riazor and then visit the Tower of Hercules.

"So, I'll tell you a legend for a change," he says after we have taken as many photos as we could. "They are two, really. One says that here Hercules buried the head of the giant Geryon and then ordered that a city was built here. The other one is linked to Ireland, and it says that King Breogan constructed a massive tower so his sons could see a distant green shore from its top. Upon seeing the green shore, they sailed north to Ireland, stayed there and became the Celtic ancestors of the current Irish people."

We then make our way to the "end of the earth," the Cape Finisterre before going up to Lugo. We stop at the As Catedrais beach, the beach of the cathedrals in Ribadeo. We wander atop the cliffs during hide tide but when the tide is low the natural arches and caves are revealed, and it's an impressive view.

Our time is really coming to an end. We leave Galicia and cross the Communities of Asturias and Cantabria to the Basque Country, finishing our trip in the gorgeous city of San Sebastian before going back to Segovia.

.

.

We are strolling down the beach of La Concha at sunset when he breaks the quietness.

"I have to tell you something," he starts.

"Okay," I say with my heart in my throat. He's been quiet for a while and is so serious now that I don't know what to think.

"Professor Martinez has offered me a position as his TA if I decide to study my Ph.D. in Segovia."

I'm speechless. For a moment I thought that he was going to tell me that it had been fun, but we couldn't have anything. I feel ashamed. After all the times he's told me that he loves me, I shouldn't have thought that, but in the last few days my mind's been playing tricks on me.

"That's awesome," I finally say, a smile almost splitting my face in two.

"Yeah, it is," he says, looking ahead of him.

I move to stand in front of him. "What is it, then? What has you so serious? Don't you... want it?" I ask, fearful.

"It's not that I don't want it, it's that I can't take it." He runs his hands through his hair. And I know now isn't the time to admire how sexy the gesture is or how good he looks with his disheveled hair, but I do anyway. I have limited time to do so and I have to take advantage of the last moments I have left.

"Is it because of your parents?" I ask him a moment later, when he doesn't elaborate.

"No, no. My parents don't have anything to do with this. It's just that my master's thesis hasn't passed my tutor's corrections. He says I have to re-do it and present it again next year."

"So you aren't coming back," I state, because now it's a fact.

His hands come to rest softly on my neck. "I am coming back, Bella. We just have to wait a year."

I bite my lip hard and try not to cry, but as soon as I feel his finger brush away a tear from my cheek, I know I'm doing a poor job out of it.

"I could go to Oxford with you," I say with a strangled voice. "You have never suggested it, but I could go."

"I know, baby. But I haven't suggested it because I know it would be a great effort on your part and your mom's. I can't stay here for a year while I do my thesis without a job and I can't ask you to do just that."

We were silent for a moment and I hugged him tightly to me, crying on his chest. When we moved apart, I could see his eyes were red and his cheeks had wet trails. I brushed his tears and then mine with a new determination.

"I'll tell you what we'll do. You go and finish that thesis and I'll start my masters. We'll both be so busy that time will fly by. We can visit when we have a break and-" I stop talking when he cuts me off.

"And by next summer I'll come back to you. For good."

"For good."

.

.

Not having to go and defend his thesis in June, Edward stays for the summer. Despite that, leaving him at the airport at the beginning of September not knowing when I'll see him again is hard, really hard, but I know it won't be forever. He's promised to come back and I believe him.

I submerge myself in the first two months of my Master's classes. I'm specializing in criminal law and it's really interesting, but life isn't the same without Edward here. For the first time, I realize how lonely I am, because then I tolerated being the third wheel with my friends, but now I can't stand it. It's not like they have left me alone, because they haven't. Jess and Maria are loyal friends that are supporting me during this hard time. But it hurts when they tell me they have plans with Mike or Marco and I don't have Edward here.

It all changes when by the end of October I get home and see a letter for me from the University. I haven't told anyone I was applying for it -not even Edward- in case I didn't get it, but the words on in the paper are clear.

I've been granted a six month Erasmus grant for Oxford University.

* * *

Translations:

* _Pincho_ of tortilla: a piece of Spanish omelette.

* _¿Tú hablas español?_ : Do you speak Spanish?

* _Solo un poco_ : Just a little bit.

* _Café solo_ : just coffee, without milk.

* _¿Me enseñarías la ciudad?_ : Would you show me the city?

* _¿De verdad quieres que te enseñe la ciudad?_ : Do you really want me to show you the city?

* _¿Mañana? Me va bien. ¿Quedamos a las... 9 en punto?_ : Tomorrow? It works for me. Do you want to meet, let's say... at nine o' clock?

* _¿Estás bien?_ : Are you alright?

* _Sí, estoy bien. Vamos, esta es mi parte favorita_ : Yes, I'm alright. Let's go, this is my favourite part.

* _¿Quieres entrar?_ : Do you want to go in?

* _Claro_ : Sure.

* _Es la iglesia de la Vera Cruz_ : It's the church of the True Cross.

* _misterioso_ : mysterious.

* * *

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